


A minor inconvenience.

by lia_bezdomny



Series: The Squirrel and his Goldfish. [4]
Category: Mystrade - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Banter, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff, M/M, Mycroft IS the British Government, Sherlock is a Brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lia_bezdomny/pseuds/lia_bezdomny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mycroft has a weekend off, Greg is thrilled and has plans for their first night. Sadly, he makes the mistake of going to work and runs into Sherlock. To make matters worse, the two find themselves in a hostage situation and it is up to Mycroft to save them. In his own unique way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A minor inconvenience.

Greg woke up to a call from Mycroft, telling him that he would be in for the weekend. They never had more than 24 hours together, since they've started seeing each other, so he is thrilled.

 

“You'll grace me with your presence for a whole weekend? What happened? Did we finally achieve world peace?” “Quite the contrary, I'm afraid. The summit I was suppose to attend was… Well, let's just say the inhabitants of some countries have a strange understanding of the word ceasefire.”

“Do I want to know which countries you are referring to? So I can plan my next vacation accordingly?” He knows that Mycroft rolls his eyes at that.

“Gregory, even if I was allowed to tell you, I'm quite certain that you could not afford to go there anyway.” “Posh bugger.”

“Indeed, Inspector. But you were aware of that from the beginning, so kindly stop acting as if you were surprised.” Greg walks over to his coffee maker and hits the button for a triple espresso. The machine makes an ungodly loud noise, which Mycroft assured him was a sign of Italian efficiency.

“Are you going to be this condescending the whole two days?” “Well of course. Like you said, I'm posh.” Greg laughs, takes the cup and adds two sugars.

“So, when can I expect you?” “Around eight this evening.”

“Good. Gives me a few hours to clean up and cook something.” “Don't you have to be at work?” Of course Mycroft knows his working hours. The assets and drawbacks of dating someone who has the power to negotiate with foreign leaders on the behalf of the Empire.

“If the elusive Mr. Holmes the elder is willing to spent a weekend with the likes of me, I'm willing to clock out early.” “I don't approve of things like that, Gregory.”

“Then I think I'll have to work really hard this evening, to show you the perks of my lazy work attitude.” “I make sure that you do.” And with that, Mycroft hangs up the phone. Greg is used to that sort of thing by now. He gets dressed and drives to work, still a little giddy.

 

“Donovan, I have to leave work early today, I've got...” _Bugger_. Sherlock is sitting in his chair, legs on his desk, studying case files – his case files.

“ _That_ is not a suicide. That was an accident.” He declares and tosses the file aside. There is already a big pile of papers on the floor.

“Good morning to you too, Sherlock.” Holmes the younger, waves his hand absently and continues.

“ _That_ robbery was staged. Is this what you do when I'm not around, Inspector? Make stupid mistakes?” “What do you want?” The rest of the files tumble to the floor and Sherlock ruffles his hair.

“I'm bored! Give me something to do!” “You could clean up the mess you've made.” He doesn't really want to deal with that right now. He has to get to the supermarket and pick something for dinner.

“BOOOORRREEEDDD!” His daughter was less irritating when she was a six year old and threw one of her tantrums. On the other hand, she could be calmed down with “My little Pony”. Greg highly doubts that Sherlock would fall for that.

“Well, I've got nothing to do for you today. In fact, I'm just here to get a few things and then run some errands and then I'm off.” “Alright.” _That was easy_ , Greg thinks as Sherlock gets up and walks to the door.

“Come on then.” “Wait, what?” “I go with you, maybe we find something interesting on the way.” “WHAT?”

\+ + +

 

“Store bought spaghetti and canned sauce? If you'd give this to someone from Italy, they would strangle you.” “I really want to strangle you right now.” Fifty four minutes in the condiments aisle with someone like Sherlock could make the pope murderous. They pull into the parking lot of the bank and get out.

“What are we doing here?” “ _We_ do nothing here. _I_ have to take a statement. You can wait in the car.”

“But I'm bored!” “Welcome to the human world. We are bored sometimes. We get over it and move on.” He grabs his documents from the backseat and stalks towards the bank.

The woman who handles insurances, Maggie Sanders is in a meeting and Greg's mood goes down even more, because Sherlock just won't stop complaining. Also, it was almost five now and he wasn't kidding about cleaning his flat. He's so pissed off, that he doesn't even realise it, when Sherlock suddenly goes quiet and pulls on his coat sleeve.

“Lestrade.” “What?!” He snaps and then he sees it too. Three guys, carefully avoiding the cameras in the bank, dressed in black. Before Greg has a chance to react, the lights go out and the front doors slam shut.

“This is a robbery! Nobody moves!” One of them shouts. “You've got to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!”

 

Of course, there is never a perfect time for being held hostage, but of all the days it could happen to him it had to be this one? He is pulled to his feet by one of the robbers and almost thrown in a corner. Next to the younger Holmes, naturally.

“Getting captured by amateurs. Insulting.” Sherlock pouts and he says it loud enough for one of them to hear it.

“What did you say?” The bigger one of them walks back and looks down at them. _Please just keep your mouth shut! Just for once in your life!_ Greg begs silently but he has no such luck.

“I feel insulted, that I was captured by such incompetent people like you and your brother.” The bloke looks confused and then looks around.

“How the hell do you know that?” “You just told me. Hence the incompetent. Also, if you disable the cameras, you do not automatically disable the silent alarm with it. That has already been triggered, because I see three undercover police cars out there.” “For the love of God, gag him already!” Greg yells out and gets a kick to the side for it. He should have just called in sick.

 

The robbers naturally have outrageous demands. A fuelled plane, a million pounds and save passage to a foreign country. Donovan went to the same courses for negotiation, so he knows, she will stall until someone gets a clean shot. At least, the robbers did gag Sherlock. Therefore he is not that pissed about the cracked rib on his left side. He checks the clock on the other side of the bank and sighs. It is now seven thirty and not only he gets nervous. Their capturers also seem to be on edge.

“What do you mean, it will take a longer time to get a plane fuelled?! Do you think we are stupid?” The big one yells into the phone.

“No, we don't want a bloody negotiator! We want our money!” The guy is silent for a few seconds and then nods. “Fine, send him in.”

He waves to his brother, who guards the door and before Greg can see the face of the person that enters the bank, he knows that it is Mycroft.

 

“Good evening, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem?” “Problem, mate? The problem is we want a plane and...” Just like his brother this morning, Mycroft waves his hand dismissively and continues.

“Of course you do. Whatever you want. An island in the Caribbean perhaps?” “Do you think this is a joke?” Mycroft raises an eyebrow and looks over to his gagged brother. The tiny smile he spots dies immediately, after he sees that Greg holds his side.

“Who says I'm joking? In fact, I am the only one out there who has the authority to get you what you so crudely demand. All you have to do is let the hostages go and get into that limousine out there. And by tomorrow, you'll be wherever you want to be.” “Yeah, right. And why should we believe you?” Mycroft straightens himself and lowers his voice.

“Because I have more important things to do than making up stories for such dull individuals like you and your… Extended family, I presume. Besides you are ruining my night. So if all it takes for me to salvage this dreadful evening and hopefully the weekend, is to get four idiots on a plane, I'll do it.” The bigger guy laughs and then points his gun at Mycroft's face.

“Alright, arsehole. We going to take you up on that offer. And just so we know that you will not fuck us over, you're coming with us.” His lips quirk slightly at that empty threat.

“Then I must insist on taking someone with me.” “What?” He points at Greg who looks confused for a second.

“Gregory, would you kindly join me over here?” The bloke turns around and Mycroft slams the cane of his umbrella onto his head. A glass shatters somewhere and the guy on the door falls down onto his knees. The third one tries to grab Sherlock to use him as a shield but Greg his faster and drives his fist into his liver. That of course sent a jolt of pain through him and he slumps against the wall. Then, the doors are pried open and Greg once again looks at the clock. It is eight.

 

Greg leans against the leather seats of Mycroft's limousine with his eyes closed and waits for the painkillers to kick in. They work faster than he thinks, because only a few minutes later, he is already in bed and dead to the world for the next ten hours.

When he finally awakes, Mycroft is laying next to him, dressed in one of his black track suits, reading the paper.

“Good morning, Gregory.” He places the paper on the nightstand and turns to him.

“Morning… I am not in my flat.” He brushes his hand through Greg's hair and he leans into the touch.

“You may call me Mycroft. And no, I thought since you've had no chance to clean and cook, I'll host you for the weekend.” Greg snorts and snuggles closer to him. Apparently the stuff they gave him made him very cuddly.

“Sorry, that our evening didn't go as planned. With me being held hostage and you rushing to my aid and all.” “A minor inconvenience. And you still have the rest of the weekend to make it up to me.” "Oh, don't worry. I will." 

 


End file.
